Battle Against Insanity
by Kaira Hikaru
Summary: Ken's loosing his mind...but is killing really the reason? one-shot (i think)


Battle Against Insanity  
  
Disclaimer:...no I don't own them...don't rub it in.  
  
A/N: I can think of a three-word sentence that covers all the warnings. I  
wrote this.  
  
¤  
  
I smiled an almost psychotic grin, almost. At least that's how it is in my opinion. I don't believe I'm crazy, or at least I don't think so. I heard somewhere insane people don't question their (in)sanity.  
  
I merely enjoy my method of relieving stress, that's all.  
  
Stress? Stress from what, many people would ask, laughing like they just heard an amusing line.  
  
Ken wouldn't have any stress. No, not KenKen, the fun, kid loving, carefree, soccer fanatic.  
  
That's what they all think. Don't even bother thinking twice about things ne? That's how you thought too, or, maybe you still do.  
  
Who knows? I sure don't.  
  
Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.  
  
Yah, maybe I am.  
  
I'll start at the beginning, for everyone that's confused.  
  
¤  
  
The beginning was an engagement, really, me engaging myself in a daydream (corny eh?), watching you, always you. You're perfect you know that? Everything you do, it's always impeccable, never leaving mistakes or tracks behind.  
  
You caught me watching every now and then, your skills are amazing, really.  
  
Whenever those moments happened, time seemed to slow down deliberately, giving me a chance to stare longingly into your beautiful dark eyes.  
  
And you know what's neat? I've experienced those time malfunctions enough times to realize ten seconds there takes up one second in reality.  
  
After counting all ten Mississippi(s) to myself, I try my best to calmly turn away, or pretend I'm helping one of the random fangirls in front of me.  
  
Then all of a sudden, Birman or Manx would just happen to walk through the door.  
  
I've grown to hate them, and in a twisted way, appreciate them. Without a care, they'd walk in, disrupting my little fantasies, but it was always the reasons why they came that cause me to feel some gratification.  
  
Why? I'll explain that a little later.  
  
I remember that mission, in which after you started to give me weird glances, weird glances as in the fact that you actually looked at me without a reason to.  
  
Manx came that day, and we all herded down into the basement/mission room. You were in your usual position I was in mine, on the couch.  
  
The details about the mission weren't really that important. If you were looking forward to that romancy cliché crap about remembering every single thing, down to the down right insignificant stuff, you're out of luck here.  
  
After a while, you start to forget everyone's name on the list that you've killed.  
  
Since I discovered my little obsession for you, I've been keeping a lot of stuff bottled up inside of me.  
  
I wanted to seem perfect, just like you, just for you.  
  
I remember that moment oh so clearly though. We all had our own roles in the mission. I was to take out the guards at the left side of the building, you the right, and make our way to the middle to join up with the other two. What were they doing? Who the hell cares?  
  
Not me.  
  
I was killing everyone in sight; also known as the "Anybody stupid enough to stick around and get in my way" people.  
  
I had let myself smirk, maybe my eyes were a little crazed, as I watched with glee as the last body fell to the ground pathetically, wounds weeping with blood.  
  
Well aren't I poetic?  
  
Oh, just to tell you, that's why I appreciate Manx and Birman. Or maybe, I should be thanking Persia, either way it doesn't really matter, does it?  
  
The sound of swishing clothes to my right caught my attention, and I whirled around to kill the remaining survivor, only to have my three claws parried with a single long blade.  
  
My eyes, must of widened further right about then.  
  
There were two main explanations for that.  
  
One because I could of hurt you, no, wait, you're perfect, how could someone as clumsy as me be able to touch you?  
  
Two because you saw how I was when I needed blow off some steam, enjoying it in the process.  
  
Your usually narrowed, calm eyes were widened in shock.  
  
Me, Ken of all people.  
  
Who would of thought?  
  
Berserker of Schwartz, my supposed counter part, along with me, we were really two sides of the same coin.  
  
I lowered my gaze.  
  
"Siberian..." You murmured softly, voice filled with secluded disbelief.  
  
I couldn't bring myself to look at you for the rest of that night, and the week following.  
  
Whenever we had missions after that day, you'd always make sure you were paired up with me; somehow, and yet make it seem unsuspicious.  
  
To keep your eye on me.  
  
At first I liked it, you were always taking care of me. My sanity was finally finding it's way back to me, no to mention humanity. I was beginning to hate killing again.  
  
That was until I realized that even after that, you still watched me, wary of the day I'd loose control again.  
  
Never in my wildest nightmares would I ever of dreamt of wanting you to turn away, to stop looking at me.  
  
Your scrutinizing gaze was always on me. I grew to hate it, but to my dismay, I could never hate you.  
  
Never.  
  
But the torture continued, in the shop, on break, on a mission, even to go do some god forsaken shopping.  
  
You were always there.  
  
Many a times, I found myself crying at night. You always thought that I was strong in a sense didn't you? So, is this shocking? The happy-go- lucky Ken Hidaka really does pity himself after all.  
  
I've tried talking to you a few times. But I'm such a coward; I didn't dare face you, I wanted so badly to tell you I had feelings for you, no don't interrupt me now. I wanted so badly to tell you I loved you, and at other times, to fuck off.  
  
But of course, I couldn't.  
  
We were doing deliveries once, remember that day? It's sad I know, but that was probably my happiest day ever.  
  
Better then my days in the J-league, days with Kase (you're so different from him, different and better, maybe that's how I fell for you.) The days with Yuriko, that single day surpassed them all.  
  
Why? Just because you had offered to buy me lunch.  
  
Pitiful ne?  
  
But in a way...it wasn't, in a way.  
  
Everyone knows how tight you are with money, and you were the one paying.  
  
Me, Ken Hidaka, got to eat lunch with you, Fujimiya R-Aya, in public none the least.  
  
I really sound like a fanboy right now eh? Don't hold that against me, please, I'm still trying to be perfect for you.  
  
I think I even caught you smile as your ever watchful gaze befell upon me, as I nearly squealed in delight at the array food.  
  
Was that because that's how I used to act? Before I went crazy? Before killing really got to me, and the fact that I craved your affection so desperately?  
  
Everything after that was normal again after that, if you call the involved circumstances normal.  
  
The happiness I felt that day soon faded away, I wanted to become yours even more.  
  
Wait, I already am yours, I just wanted you to return the feelings.  
  
Just.  
  
But that's just too much to ask isn't it?  
  
I don't know when it started, or maybe this time there wasn't a beginning, the lunacy just continued to grow in me...I guess.  
  
I broke down more the usual. I...I killed so much, and I enjoyed it all, and the worst thing is right now, I'm not disgusted at all, just pleased. Though I know I shouldn't be.  
  
One night, I couldn't take it any more, I just couldn't, wouldn't.  
  
I bolted from my apartment, onto the streets, just running, running.  
  
Where to? That's something I'll probably never know.  
  
It started to rain. When? Again, I don't know. I really didn't care.  
  
I found my way to the park, somehow. I remembered that I used to zone out by practicing soccer, and, boy, has that ever changed. I just collapsed into the goalpost, crying once again. If there were any by- passers, they would of mistaken the tears for raindrops.  
  
I'm not sure how long I stayed there. I was probably going to catch a cold, or worst hypothermia, but I really didn't care. If I got sick and died, I'd just go to hell for my sins, probably never to see you again.  
  
But then again...I don't think I wanted that, to be separated from you. But if that was how life was, then I might as well enjoy the freezing rain for as long as I could. Or maybe I wouldn't die, God's been cruel enough to let me suffer, or as some people say,  
  
"God hurts those he loves."  
  
No kidding.  
  
But in this case, I think God really does hate me for killing his creations.  
  
Somewhere along the line, I remember seeing a shadow thrown across my vision, but I was too reluctant and tired to turn and see whoever or whatever it belonged to.  
  
I remember someone embracing me from behind, just holding me.  
  
Was that you? It couldn't have been, could it?  
  
But it felt so warm in the circle, so right, how could anything other then you feel right?  
  
I remember a jacket being wrapped around my shoulders as someone carried me to a car.  
  
I don't know what 'it' looked like; I think I was asleep by then.  
  
I woke up later that night. There was a wet cloth on my burning forehead. I must have caught a fever. I looked around curiously. I was in my room, of my apartment, alone.  
  
Again.  
  
I hated being alone. Being alone means there was nothing to distract me, distract me from my thoughts.  
  
Thoughts about my sadistic pleasures, thoughts about how my life sucked, on and on.  
  
Then of course, there were always the thoughts about you.  
  
I lay there for quite some time. Or at least I think I did. You can never tell when you have a fever, or when you're just not paying attention.  
  
The quietness started to get to me once more. I couldn't help but wonder if I was claustrophobic, being wrapped up in a ton of blankets...say, where had I gotten all these blankets?  
  
I slipped out of them quietly, and padded my way over to your apartment, which was conveniently right next to mine.  
  
The light was currently on, I could tell from the narrow beam of brightness underneath your door.  
  
I hesitated slightly, raising my hands to rap on your door. I lost balance a few times while contemplating, my feverish mind arguing with itself.  
  
My head felt like it was going to explode; I fell against your door.  
  
You must have mistaken the loud thud as a loud knock for soon your deep voice called for me to enter, claiming the door was unlocked.  
  
That was all I needed to pull myself up, using the doorknob as support. I stumbled in clumsily, like always.  
  
You were on your bed, reading something, literature I guess.  
  
I leaned against the wall heavily as you slowly lowered your book and propped yourself up on your elbows, in a casual position.  
  
"You should be resting," you murmured softly.  
  
I look up at the sound of your voice, I'm not sure how I looked, some form of 'horrible' no doubt as I struggled to make a sentence," Th-that was you?"  
  
You nodded slowly.  
  
I groaned and stumbled over to your bed and suddenly lunge into your arms, sobbing.  
  
How pathetic can I get?  
  
I might of knocked the wind out of you, at this point I'm not sure about anything any more, though I think the fever had taking it's toll on me.  
  
I felt weak as I collapsed onto you.  
  
I expected you to shove me away, so I'm surprised when you wrap your arms around me.  
  
I tried my hardest to tilt my head up, "R-Aya..."  
  
"Just call me Ran," You murmured.  
  
I nuzzled into your neck, letting you stroke me gently on the back.  
  
It was comforting, and that was putting it mildly.  
  
"Ken..." You murmured softly into my ear," Tell me what's wrong."  
  
And following that is where I am right now, done telling a brief summery of my loosing battle against insanity.  
  
¤  
  
"Ken," You speak softly yet again," You should have told me all this. This is my fault isn't it, you were going crazy because of me..."  
  
I was speechless; you actually blamed this on yourself?  
  
"I'm so sorry..." You murmur softly," but the truth is...I... I love you too."  
  
My heart probably stopped at those last four words of your sentence. You hold onto me tightly, comfortingly, picking me up and kicking the covers back and you lay me on your bed gently. Pulling the covers slightly past my chin.  
  
How sweet, you're tucking me in.  
  
I smile a bit then frown as you turn away to leave.  
  
"R-Ran...don't leave," I try to choke out.  
  
You turn around a place a finger to my lips, "Ssshhh, I'm just going to get some aspirin, I'll be back."  
  
You came back, true as your words, feeding me the medicine before climbing in under the covers with me. I cuddled up to you, you didn't complain.  
  
The hurt subsided and I began to fall asleep but not before hearing you utter a few words.  
  
"Everything will be alright now."  
  
And I believe you.  
  
¤~Owari~¤ 


End file.
